


Discovering Truth

by writing_reading_inspiring



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Plot Twists, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_reading_inspiring/pseuds/writing_reading_inspiring
Summary: One can say that (y/n) doesn’t have a normal life. Then again, anyone who’s father is the leader of one of the most feared English mobs probably wouldn’t. One day, her life gets turned upside down when a letter arrives from her uncle stating that she is a target of her father’s rival mob, the Hollands.
Relationships: Tom Holland (Actor) & Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/You
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

I’ve always understood that I wasn’t a typical teenager. I mean, I’ve been exposed to that idea since I was a 7 year old girl shooting a glock 17 at a moving target during my father’s “protection training”. I feel like a part of me even understood that when I was waking up to the blaring of an ambulance and the sharp beep of a heart monitor when I was 4. My life is complicated and simple at the same time, which isn’t just confusing, but really sucks. 

To understand how I ended up here, I have to tell you about my family and what I know of my past. My father is Harold Chimaera, leader of one of the most feared English mobs. My mother was his wife, Eleanor Chimaera. She was an amazing wife and an even more amazing mother, at least from what I can remember. My father sent her away to Corinth, Maine when she was pregnant with my brother, Scott, and me in order to keep her safe from any harm that could befall us. Sadly it wasn’t his enemies that hurt us, but a truck driver on Mccard Road who had a bit too much Bourbon to drink. My mother and twin brother died that cold winter’s night. 

When my father found out, he immediately came to the United States to bring me home to London. From there, he moved most of his operation to Cambridge, a place where he can keep me safe from accidents and anyone who would want to harm us. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts by a light knock on the door frame. The gruff voice of my father’s right hand man, Abel, followed after it.

“Ms. Chimaera, you’re father requests your presence in the living room.” He adjusted his black suit jacket and scratched at his 5 o’clock shadow that he seems to have forgotten to shave.

“Of course Abel,” I curtly replied. “I’ll be right down. Just give me a minute to put my easel away.”

He nodded towards me before disappearing from my view. I got up and looked at the blank canvas that was taunting me. I’ve been unable to draw for the last 2 weeks and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. I’ve already painted the roses in the garden, the birds in the aviary, the butterflies that flutter just outside the windows, and even the creek that runs next to the house. 

My home may be considered luxurious in it’s grand stature, pristine marble floors, exquisite design, and exotic fauna; however, it lacks inspiration for me at this point. After 15 years, things start to seem boring and you start to get claustrophobic, even if you have a generous amount of room to move around. 

Being caged and unable to leave the grounds of my father’s estate may keep me safe, but it stops me from being alive; I’m only existing. I know I’m luckier than most, and I’m grateful for it, but I can’t help how I feel.

I begin to put away my painting materials before heading through the door of my art room. 

My father gave no worry to buying me whatever I wanted. This would explain the highly functioning studio I have next to my room, the stocked kitchen that holds any ingredient I could imagine using, and the $800 camera I have in a hard case on my dresser in my bedroom. 

The walk from upstairs to the living room is brief due to my father wanting me to be able to escape as quickly as possible if needed.

“(y/n)! There you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your thoughts on how I should get Mulligan to back off of our exports. But first of all, have you painted anything new for me to hang in the gallery?” My father got up from the couch and walked to the staircase while speaking to me.

His question caused goosebumps on my arms. He has been asking me for a new painting everyday after I told him I had nothing to work from.

“I haven’t been able to paint anything new yet, but I’m thinking about painting the garden again, except this time it would be in the morning,” I replied to him while looking down.

“That sounds absolutely wonderful, my dear. Now, about that plan of yours. I enjoy the part about messing with Mulligan’s investigation, but why exactly do you think he would go after another mob all of the sudden,” my father inquired.

You see, my father has been trying to prepare me for when I take over the mob when I’m older. At least that’s what he tells me. Personally, I believe he’s trying to make sure I’m smart enough to take care of myself if I need to. Nevertheless, I put my input in on subjects such as how to increase profits and how to get nosy detective’s off our scent.

“Dad, Mulligan has been chasing us for years, which means there’s a low chance that he has been doing other cases. His chief must be pretty mad at him for ignoring his other duties. Giving ‘evidence’ that can bring down another mob permanently would put him in good graces with his boss. He would be an idiot if he doesn’t take the bait,” I explained to him. 

“That’s my smart girl.” He came over to give me a hug. 

When he pulled away he spoke again, “Oh, I almost forgot. Rosetta put together the mail and apparently there are quite a few pieces for you. How many colleges did you apply to?”

“Maybe about 15. I wanted options,” I said. 

This wasn’t technically a lie, but it also wasn’t technically the complete truth. I wanted a good amount of options, yes, but I also wanted to be able to get as far away as I can. Not because I hate my life, but because I want to feel free. 

“Sweetheart, I can get you into any school you want with one phone call, so why did you need options?”

“I wanted to get in on my own, and I’m sure I did with my markings.”

“Of course you did, darling.” He checked his watch and a pained look came to his face. “I hate to do this sweetie, but I have a meeting in five minutes. The mail should be in your room. Tell you what, how about we have a movie night tonight? Say 8 o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect. Now, don’t be late to your meeting because of me. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“I love you too.” With that, he departed from the living room towards the north side of the estate, which is where his conference room is.”

I made my way back upstairs to my bedroom. I might as well see what letters I was able to get today. 

You see, the mail that we receive is gone through and assorted at another location in case of dangerous substances or tricks. It’s also a way for my father to see who was trying to contact me via mail (he already has my computer’s searched and monitored 24 hours).

Once I get to my bedroom, I immediately spotted my mail placed on my mahogany desk as it is every day. I grabbed the stack and sat against the headboard of my bed, having to push myself back a couple of times due to its size. 

University of Oxford … accepted.

University of Cambridge … accepted. 

University of York … accepted. 

Université de la Sorbonne … accepté. 

Harvard University … accepted. 

Letter from Elijah Wilson … that’s a new one.

I immediately push the other packages aside and look at the small white envelope that managed to get to my room. I’ve never had mail from a person I’ve never heard of, especially one bearing my mother’s maiden name. 

The mail crew must have not seen this because it wasn’t already opened. Slowly pulling apart the unopened seal, I pulled the crisp, white paper out of its sleeve. 

Dear (y/n),

Hey kiddo, it’s your Uncle Elijah again. I don’t know if you’ve even been getting these letters, but that doesn’t matter. I still have hope that I’ll be able to see you again. You must be about 19 now, right? Last time I saw you, you weren’t even to my knee, but you had tremendous spunk for a 4 year old. If you’re anything like you were when you were little or anything like your mother, I believe that you’d get along great with my daughter, Elizabeth. I’m sure you’re living a great life in Cambridge with your dad, but I really do need to see you, sweetie. I understand that talking about what happened with your mother and brother must be a difficult thing to do. I could hardly speak about it for at least two years, but it’s been 15 now. Not only do we miss you in Maine, but we want to try to help you as much as possible too. I’m sure your father has some of the greatest protection set up just for you, but even Fort Knox has breeches in their security system. I’m sure he already knows about the Hollands trying to get to you, but I’m just worried that you won’t be ready for when they do come. Though I hate to say it, there offense has gotten stronger and they had corrupted more mobs that I can count. There are probably enemies that you think are allies coming in and out without any strain. These men have already killed Eleanor and Scott, I don’t want to see them kill you too. I know coming to Maine didn’t work that well last time, but we’ve grown since then, we’re more prepared. Please come, or at least respond so I know that you’re safe.

With love and the best intentions,

Uncle Elijah


	2. Chapter 2

I didn’t realize I was crying until the tear drop hit the paper, staining the sheet and making the black ink spread a tad.

I didn’t know what to make of the letter. According to my “Uncle”, my mother and brother died because of a hit from an opposing mob.

It’s not impossible, but I at least thought my father would tell me if such a thing were to happen. I mean, it kind of changes a lot of things as well as explains a few.

I was broken from my thoughts, which were running a mile a minute, by a light knock on the door.

“Hey (y/n), so I was just talking to some of the guys and we were wondering if you could make some of those cinnamon brownies? Like the ones at the meeting last week,” the voice of Tom drifted into the room through the door.

Thomas Parker has been my best friend for the past 3 years. He’s only a couple of years older than me, but my father hired him to be my personal bodyguard after he proved himself to the mob. He’s one of the best men here as well as my rock. He’s always been there for me whenever I’ve needed him and I like to think I’ve been there for him too.

I quickly wiped away my tears with my sweatshirt sleeve and went to open my door.

“Hey Tom, yeah I’ll make brownies for you guys. If you’re free you’re welcome to help too.” I move past him and make my way towards the kitchen.

“Hey Petal, what’s wrong. Look at me,” Tom said to me as he grabbed my arm to pull me back.

Petal is the nickname he gave me after we first met. He noticed a painting I did of the garden and told me how I was as beautiful as the flowers in it. I blushed so hard after he said that, that he decided to call me by something to remind me of how he views me.

I slowly turned towards him, “Nothing’s wrong Tom. You know how I am. I think of something weird and suddenly it’s like I just saw my non existent dog die.”

He gives me a weary look and lets my arm go. He carefully lifts up his hand to push some of my hair out of my face, running it along my cheek until he dropped it back to his side.

“I’ll help you with the brownies, but if something really wrong, please tell me.”

I slowly nodded my head and turned back around to lead us to the kitchen.

My father says my joy of baking comes from my mother. She was apparently the one who would cook for banquets and such when there were events.

I directed Tom to grab the ingredients we needed from the fridge while I went to the pantry.

I enjoyed baking, but I loved it when I had someone to do it with me. Honestly, no one else in the house can really cook, which is why my father hires a cooking staff.

I never really have anyone who actually knows how to bake without totally destroying the place. Luckily, over time, I’ve been able to teach Tom enough to where he knows how to measure ingredients and not leave us with hours of cleaning to do.

I exit the pantry with my ingredients to see Tom balancing the eggs, milk, pans, and butter in one hand while trying to reach for bowls with the other. I quickly put down what I had and rushed over to him, taking what I could before it came crashing to the floor.

“Whoa there Hercules, be careful. Something could have fallen on you, or worse, on me.”

“Thank you, Petal. What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” I shot back with a smirk.

He gave me a bright smile as he began to spray the pans.

“Alright, so since you’re the grand master at baking and everything I think I’m just going to let you begin and I’ll sit on the stool at the island. Good plan?”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to go with no. If you want to eat the brownies, then you’re going to have to help make them.”

“But everyone else gets to eat them and they’re not helping,” Tom whined.

“That may be true, but at least you get to spend some quality time with me.”

He scoffed, “I don’t even like you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him as I began measuring out my cocoa powder and sugar. I cracked two eggs into the mixture as well as my butter.

“Come help me, please. I need you to get one teaspoon of vanilla extract and one and one third of a cup of flour.”

Tom began to rise from the stool as a devilish smile grew on his face.

“Of course, Petal. I’d be more than happy to help.”

He poured the vanilla extract and flour into the bowl as I mixed everything together.

I turned around to gather the cinnamon and salt when a cloud of white surrounded me. Tom laughed hysterically at the sight of me covered in flour.

“Oh you’re in for it, Parker.”

I grabbed the whisk and began chasing him around the kitchen island and the table. We were both laughing the entire time, not being able to stop it.

“What are you two doing,” the voice of Abel rang through the kitchen, bringing both of us to a halt.

“Hey, Abel. We were just making some cinnamon brownies. Would you like some when we’re finished?” I gave him my best smile as a spoke.

I knew he would be upset with Tom if I didn’t talk him down. Abel has always been wary of Tom for some reason, so I try my best to not let them interact with one another. I guess not trusting people comes with the job.

“I’ll only eat some if you make them alone,” Abel replied while eyeing Tom up and down.

Tom glares at him, stepping a little closer to me in defense.

“Well, we all know Tom can’t really bake, so I’m basically making them by myself,” I say trying to break the tension. “Tell you what, I’ll bring you some brownies tonight before you leave. I’ll put a little extra in there for you wife.”

Abel smiles softly at the mention of his wife, “Okay, thank you (y/n).”

“No problem, Abel. Now if you will excuse me, I have some baking to do.”

Abel nods his head towards me and sizes up Tom one more time before leaving the room.

“That guy really doesn’t like you does he,” I laughed at him.

“Yeah, whatever, laugh it up. It’s fine, honestly. My job is to protect my Petal, not be liked by others.”

I turned my head towards the kitchen island so he couldn’t see me blush.

“Anyway, let’s continue making those brownies, yeah?”

I nodded in reply and began to get to work. It took some time, but I was finally able to put the dessert into the oven to bake.

“So, what are you going to do while you wait for the timer to go off,” Tom asked me.

“I actually got some letters today, so I think I’m going to go look at them some more. You know, try to dwindle down the number of schools I have to talk to my dad about.”

“Okay,” he said while giving me a questioning look. “But, hey, if you need any help or anyone to talk to, like I said earlier, I’m right here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Tom.”

I gave him one last smile before retreating back to my bedroom to look at the letter once more. I know it’s risky, but I need to know more about what Elijah was saying. I’m not certain if whoever wrote the letter is actually my uncle, but he did know information that is highly classified. I mean, he knew my brothers name, which is something not even Tom knows.

All my life I’ve been cooped up in this house, being taught to be ready for the real world yet never actually given the chance to see if I am. It’s time I find out who I really am and I think the first step in doing that is to figure out my past. I just really hope that Elijah can help me with that because I’m taking a big risk on this.


End file.
